Blue & Gold
by catie-writes-things
Summary: Entries for Zutara Week 2018. Day 7: Element Swap - The Fire Nation peasant and the prince of the Northern Water Tribe.
1. First Kiss

Katara always thought that there were so many more romantic moments Zuko could have chosen to kiss her for the first time.

He could have made a cautious but tender overture on one of those moonlit nights on Ember Island, when they had stayed awake while all the others slept, speaking in hushed whispers of the past and the future. She might have cried if he had, all her confusing feelings for him dragged to the surface, back then when it had seemed like anything might happen to them. He would have been mortified, probably tripped over his words to apologize, and she would have had to reassure him he hadn't done anything wrong. But then there might have been a conversation more about the future than the past, and promises of things to come, when the time was right, the circumstances better.

But he hadn't done that.

He could have passionately embraced her in the aftermath of the comet's passage, when they were both dizzy with relief and heady with victory. She had already been crying then anyway, so in awe of him and everything he had done that day. She would have kissed him back without hesitation, that brave and selfless fool who had risked everything for her. There had still been so much unresolved at that point, but the one thing she had known was that they had both survived, because they were together. That had been its own prize, worth all her tears, though perhaps the kiss would have made it that much sweeter.

But he hadn't done that, either.

He could have pressed his lips to hers in that moment of impulsive happiness when they had danced together at the festival celebrating the anniversary of the war's end. It might have been a bit public, with all the other revelers around them, but she liked to think they would have all been too caught up in their own dancing and laughter to notice. It would have been a quick kiss, and she would have smiled at him after, and they would have gone on with the dance, perhaps with just a bit more spring in their steps. And then maybe later on the two of them would have found a more private place, to follow up on this new development more thoroughly.

But that was also not what he had done. So while all of those moments were memories Katara would cherish, they did not bear the particular distinction of being the moment of their first kiss.

What actually happened was far less dramatic. They were going over notes for an upcoming trade summit. Zuko asked her to pass him the scroll containing the report on that year's rice harvest. She handed it to him, he thanked her perfunctorily, and she smiled. Then he leaned forward, across the corner of the desk where she was sitting adjacent to him, and placed the softest kiss just at the corner of her mouth. His lips were warm and dry, and she thought at first he must have been aiming for her cheek and missed.

But when he drew back and met her eye, she was quickly disabused of that notion. "You don't know how many times I've wanted to do that," he said.

It was Katara's turn to lean in. Her lips met his full on, more deliberate but just as gentle, their second kiss following soon on the first, as if to make up for lost time. "You don't know how many times I've wished you had."


	2. Letters

Zuko, by the mandate of Agni, Lord of the Fire Nation, to Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, my betrothed and my beloved, most tender and affectionate greetings.

Every moment since you departed from our shores feels like another eclipse, for something truly essential has gone out of my life. My advisors insist that this year of separation is an ancient and venerable tradition to preserve the virtue of the royal family from any hint of scandal, but I suspect it has another purpose, namely to put the Fire Lord through the crucible and thus test his commitment to his intended. For every night before I fall asleep I think I have achieved the peak of torment that a lover can feel, only to wake each morning to find that I miss you even more, and my suffering is that much greater. I can only imagine the untold depths of my love for you I will have discovered by the time you return.

A few days ago I opened the midsummer fair in the capital - next year, that will be your responsibility as Fire Lady, as I'm sure your tutors have informed you. I've only been able to take part in the fair in this ceremonial capacity, since there are so many other things I have to do, and as there has not actually been a Fire Lady to properly organize things since my grandmother passed away, I'm afraid what was once the preeminent cultural and economic event of our nation has rather declined in recent decades. My uncle says there used to be a theater festival, and performers as well as merchants from all the nations would attend. This is something I am sure you would be able to make happen again if you wished. You always were good at bringing people together. But perhaps you will have your own ideas - they would undoubtedly be brilliant as well.

I've had the Fire Lady's jewels brought out from the royal treasury as well. The consort's crown is in a sad state, I'm sorry to say, though it's nothing that can't be repaired and polished in time for the wedding. What's worse is that it turns out my grandfather sold off several of the other pieces towards the end of his reign, to help finance an expansion of the navy. There was an impressive collar of rubies with matching earrings that were loaned to my mother for her wedding, which I had thought would look beautiful on you, but unfortunately they are gone, and with the tight budget the palace is running these days, buying them back is out of the question. I suggested to the treasurer that the Water Tribe might have jewels of their own they would like you to wear, but he was offended at the implication that we could not properly outfit our own Fire Lady. Should I keep working on him? I won't unless you think it's worthwhile.

If I could do whatever I wanted, of course, I would find a way to lay all the gold and jewels of the world at your feet, and still they would not equal to the treasure you have given me in your love. You could wear the sun itself for a crown and make it look dull by comparison. I long for your light to return to this dark old palace, and my heart burns for the day when I will be able to see you again and call you my wife. Until then, and always, I remain utterly and devotedly yours.

* * *

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, to Zuko, Lord of the Fire Nation, dearest greetings.

You know I can't stand it when you write ridiculous letters like that, Zuko. I am absolutely mortified to read them, knowing you mean every word, and that I utterly lack the written eloquence to adequately respond to your sentiments (though my tutors have been working on it - how was that?)

We covered the midsummer fair in our lessons as it was happening, and you're right, I do have some ideas. One thing I was thinking of was including bending in the theater part of the festival. The Northern Water Tribe puts on a beautiful display of waterbending whenever we visit them, and I think it would be good for everyone to remember that the elements aren't just for fighting, now that we're trying to get people to do less of that. But maybe that's too much to start with. What do you think?

Our traditional Water Tribe finery is mostly furs, which won't be practical in the Fire Nation, but there are some silver and ivory pieces included in my dowery. I'm under strict orders not to wear any of them until after the wedding, though. It's supposed to be bad luck. So you can reassure the treasurer of my confidence in his ability to see me suitably arrayed and bejeweled for the auspicious day of our nuptials. (I hope my tutors would be proud of that sentence.)

I do miss you, every day. Please don't stop writing your ridiculous letters. They're the only thing keeping me from going completely mad with missing you. It's still crazy to think that I won't see you at all until the wedding. That day can't come soon enough. But until then, I can only promise you in writing that you still have, and always will, all my love.


	3. Tea

**For those of you reading Fate Deferred, this takes place in that universe, at the South Pole, about three years before the present day storyline.**

 **For those of you not reading Fate Deferred...why aren't you? But enjoy the fluff anyway. ;)**

* * *

Katara's back was aching, her feet and ankles were too swollen for her boots, and the baby was doing some kind of acrobatic routine, kicking her relentlessly. Kida had assured her all of this was normal, but Katara didn't find much comfort in that at the moment. With only a month to go before her expected delivery, she felt she had earned the right to stay in bed today, so that's what she was going to do.

She heard the door creak on its hinges, and she opened her eyes. Zuko tread softly into the near darkness of their bedroom, carrying a tray. "I brought you some tea," he said in a low voice. "And something to eat, if you're up for it." He set the tray on the bedside table, and helped Katara to sit up. Everything was so difficult for her these days.

With a mumbled word of thanks, Katara accepted the bowl of sea prunes he offered her. She took a bite without much enthusiasm. "Needs more salt," she commented.

Zuko chuckled, sitting down on the bed and draping one arm over her knees. "You think everything needs more salt now."

Katara huffed and set the bowl aside. It was true she had been craving salty foods, but that was hardly her fault. She would feel more like eating when the baby wasn't punching her in the stomach anyway. She tried the tea instead. "Now this is perfect," she said appreciatively. "You've gotten a lot better at making it."

Zuko shook his head. "Your grandmother made the tea," he admitted.

Katara snorted in laughter, and took another long sip. "Well, at least I have her, then," she joked.

"Can I get you anything else?" Zuko asked, curling his hand around the back of her leg, just above her knee. Even through the blanket over her legs, she could feel how warm his hand was. For someone who complained so often about the cold of the South Pole's winter, he certainly always felt warm enough.

Katara closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard. "No, thank you," she said, content with just the tea for now. When she had finished it, she set the empty cup back on the tray and scooted down the bed to lie on her side again. It was pretty much the only comfortable position she could lie down in now.

"You should probably eat more," Zuko admonished her gently, his hand sliding up her thigh to rest on the small of her back. The baby gave another flurry of kicks.

"Maybe later," Katara groaned.

"The food will be cold later," Zuko pointed out.

Katara grinned into her pillow. "You'll reheat it for me," she said. There were some advantages to having a firebender for a husband, after all. She shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. "My back is killing me," she complained.

"Well, in that case," Zuko said, and the hand on her back grew even warmer, tracing slow circles over her sore muscles. Katara let out a sigh of relief. Oh yes, there were definitely advantages to having him around.

But her reprieve was short-lived. The baby writhed and kicked, showing no sign of settling down. With her large belly now pressed against Zuko's side, he must have felt the movement, too. He placed his other hand over her swollen abdomen and leaned in close. "Calm down, little one," he said with the tenderest smile Katara had ever seen. "Give your mother a break for a while."

And the baby obeyed, as if he already knew his father's voice.


	4. Turtleduck

Katara found Zuko by the turtleduck pond, which she supposed wasn't a surprise. "How did it go?" she asked gently, sitting beside him in the grass.

Zuko tossed a handful of breadcrumbs into the water dejectedly. A turtledrake swam over to nibble at them, while his mate remained on her nest on the other side of the pond. Her eggs wouldn't hatch for at least another week.

"He won't tell me anything," Zuko said, tearing additional pieces off the loaf of bread with more force than was necessary. "He says he doesn't even know where she is." He threw the bits of bread into the water again, but the lone bird ignored them, probably overfed already. He swam away, and Zuko tossed the remains of the loaf aside in frustration.

"Somebody must know something," Katara reasoned. "Her friends, or servants who worked in the palace back then…"

Zuko shook his head. "My father dismissed all her servants. And I've talked to her friends - they know even less than I do. Her banishment was very secretive. Not like mine."

Katara placed one hand over his in the grass. She knew Zuko's banishment had been intended to humiliate him, sending him away in very public disgrace. But his mother, it seemed, had simply vanished. "I'm sorry," she said. This wouldn't be the end of his search by any means, but it was hard to see him hit another dead end on what had been a very painful lead for him to follow in the first place.

Zuko turned his hand over to grip hers tightly. "I just wonder if _she_ knew, those three years I was in exile." He was watching the mother turtleduck, who had stood up from the nest and was now diligently turning over each of her eggs with her bill. "And if she did know, why didn't she…"

"Maybe she couldn't," Katara suggested. "Or maybe she didn't know." She knew these possibilities must have occurred to Zuko already. But right now, he was listening to the worst of his fears.

"And what about now?" he went on, running his free hand through his loose hair. It seemed he hadn't worn the crown when he went to speak with his father, which Katara thought might have been a mistake. "It's been almost a year since the coronation, word must have spread everywhere by now. I made a public proclamation that her banishment was lifted, and she still hasn't come forward. She either can't come back, or she doesn't want to, and I don't know which is worse."

Katara looked away. She knew exactly how bad the former scenario was, but she couldn't say either that the latter was obviously preferable.

Zuko let go of her hand. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing for me to say," he rebuked himself. She glanced back at him to see he had pressed the heels of both hands to his forehead. "There's still a chance I could see her again, even if it's small. Of course that's better."

Katara scooted closer to him, and placed her arm around his shoulders. Zuko kept his face hidden, but leaned into her touch, just a little. "You don't have to apologize for how you feel about this," Katara reassured him. "It's hard, not knowing."

Zuko rested his arms on his drawn-up knees, turning his head in back her direction, though his eyes fell below her face, where her mother's necklace rested against her collarbone. "Does knowing make it easier?" he asked softly.

"Nothing makes it easier," Katara replied. "But knowing does help."

Zuko looked away from her again, though he didn't otherwise move. Neither of them said anything more. They sat together in silence, watching the turtledrake fish bits of sodden bread out of the water to bring back to the nest for his mate.


	5. Crystals

"I'm sorry," came Zuko's voice from behind her, the last thing she had expected him to say. "That's something we have in common."

Katara picked her head up, eyes still wet, and turned around sharply towards him again. The expression on his face was softer than she had ever seen it. He really did look sorry. In the green light reflected off of the crystals around them, it was surreal. "What are you talking about?" she asked, only a hint of accusation left in her voice.

"My mother's gone, too," Zuko clarified. He had shifted around on the cave floor as well, and they now sat facing each other fully.

"Because of the war?" Katara asked, wiping her tears away self-consciously.

"She disappeared," Zuko replied. His voice was even - he sounded so different when he wasn't shouting or insulting her - but the look in his eyes was unmistakably one of grief. She was surprised he didn't try to hide it from her. "I don't know what happened, but...my father must have had something to do with it."

Katara didn't know what to say to that. Rote words of sympathy would have felt hollow, undeserved and not quite true. But he had shared a hint of something painful and personal with her, so she felt compelled to do the same. "My mother was killed when I was eight, in the last Fire Nation attack on our village."

"Six years ago," Zuko said. Katara blinked in surprise at his accurate calculation. She didn't think he knew her age that precisely. "My father ended the campaign against the Southern Water Tribe when he took the throne, to focus more resources on the Earth Kingdom," he explained, evidently seeing her confusion. "That was the same time my mother disappeared."

"When he stopped the raids?" Katara asked.

"When he became Fire Lord," Zuko said.

They could have lost their mothers within months of each other, even days, Katara realized. What a strange thought. It was like the glow of the crystals had distorted reality, allowed her to see things in ways she had thought impossible, the prince of the Fire Nation sitting across from her in Earth Kingdom green, describing the war from the other side - and then linking her loss and pain to his own. She wondered if she could do something similar, show him a new perspective as well.

"My dad was never the same after that," she went on, needing to tell him things she could hardly discuss with anyone, to make him understand how her family had been torn apart. "None of us were. It was like...the life we had lived before ended, and something totally different took its place."

"Of course," Zuko replied, getting to his feet and finally looking away uncomfortably. "Losing her would change everything." It occurred to Katara that Zuko must have been thrown into this crystal prison with her on the orders of his own sister, and that maybe he already understood more than she gave him credit for.

Katara stood as well, and said yet another thing that mere moments ago she would have thought impossible. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before."


	6. Bloodbending

"It's called bloodbending," Katara said out of nowhere, halfway back to Ember Island, after the sky had grown dark. "And I hate it."

Zuko looked up at Appa's saddle, where Katara was leaning against the front edge. She had agreed to rest this time, but apparently sleep was eluding her. He wasn't surprised.

"It's...impressive," Zuko said, remembering how the captain of the Southern Raiders had contorted and fallen with a simple wave of her hands. Even Azula didn't have that kind of power. She could only break people, not bend them.

"It's disgusting," Katara spat, though Zuko thought for once her ire was not aimed at him. The moon was ahead of them on the horizon, still full and bright, and if she had actually hated him at that moment he would have known about it. "I made a promise never to use it again," she said darkly, her shoulders tight. "But then the second I had the chance, and I was really angry…"

Zuko stood and climbed up to the saddle, trusting Appa to keep their course for the time being. He sat across from Katara, giving her space. "Just because that man wasn't the one who killed your mother, doesn't mean he didn't deserve it," he said firmly. There might not have been any more attacks on her village in recent years, but the Southern Raiders had still been living up to their name. He would know.

"It's not about what he deserves!" Katara snapped, hugging her arms around herself. "I don't want to be...I just wanted to be someone she could be proud of."

Zuko blinked in surprise. "You don't think your mother would be proud of you today?"

"I made a _promise_ , Zuko," Katara insisted, stressing the word with devastation. "That's supposed to mean something." Zuko could see her right hand shaking where it gripped her left elbow tightly. At that moment, he realized, all of her fury was directed at herself.

"Look, I didn't know your mom," Zuko said carefully. Katara squeezed her eyes shut, and he pressed on. "But having met the rest of your family...I can't imagine she was the sort of person who wouldn't forgive you for being angry." Katara's family wasn't like his, after all.

Katara was still and silent for a moment, curled in on herself, all fragile tension, the dark clouds gathered just before a storm began. Then the storm broke. A strangled sob escaped her throat, and she began to cry.

At first Zuko was afraid he had said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry," he said hastily, leaning across the distance between them, one arm reaching out to...do what? He left his hand hanging awkwardly in the air, halfway towards something, but not actually touching her.

"No," Katara choked out in between her sobs. "I think...I think I needed to hear that."

Zuko's fingers twitched in the air, indecisive for another moment. Then, before he could think better of it, he grabbed her hand, crawling across the saddle to sit next to her.

Katara didn't stop crying, and she didn't say anything else, but the girl who could freeze the rain and turn a man's own blood against him held on tight to his hand like it was her lifeline.


	7. Element Swap

The firebending peasant had put up an admirable fight to keep him from the Avatar, but Prince Zuko of the Northern Water Tribe had not come all this way just to lose to her.

She may have succeeded in knocking him out with a blast of fire that had burned through his water whips, and in binding his hands while he was unconscious, but as soon as the sky turned dark he knew her advantage was gone. A slow exhale, and frost covered the ropes around his wrists, turning them brittle enough to break. A wave of water summoned from the temple's reflecting pool caught the firebender off guard, extinguishing the weak flames she conjured in her defense and sweeping her off her feet. The Avatar was his.

He allowed himself one moment to stand triumphant over his defeated opponent. "You rise with the sun," he taunted her. "I rise with the moon."

* * *

"I'm sorry I yelled at you before." Katara could hardly believe what she was hearing herself say, much less that she meant the words. "It's just, for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face." Her voice echoed eerily in the cavernous vault of the air temple.

"My face," the Water Tribe prince said, adding his own voice to the echo. He put one hand to the frostbite scar that covered his left eye. "I see."

"No, that's not what I meant," Katara hastily clarified, but Zuko didn't seem upset.

"It's okay," he said, looking away from her. "I used to think this scar marked me. The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. But lately, I've realized I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark."

Katara put one hand to her neck, fingering the leather cord that hung there. "Maybe you could be free of it," she said tentatively. Zuko looked back at her in confusion, and she pulled the object at the end of the cord out from under her tunic, holding it up for him to see.

"This is a dragon scale," she explained. "The Sun Warriors gave it to me. I don't know if it would work, but it's supposed to have the power to grant one wish." She looked up at the prince through her eyelashes, feeling almost shy. "I've been saving it for something important."

Zuko studied the dragon scale, glittering softly in the faint light. What she was doing was crazy, Katara realized. A waterbender like Zuko would have no idea how precious what she offered him was, how sacred. But instead of mocking her for her primitive Fire Nation superstitions, he closed his eyes, and silently bowed his head, almost reverent in his acquiescence. Katara carefully pressed her fingertips to the rough skin of his scar, and took a deep breath.

But she never got a chance to invoke the dragon's power, for at that moment the airbending mechanism on the vault's only entrance whirred and clicked, and the doors swung open to reveal that Aang had found them.

* * *

Azula screamed and struggled against the chains that bound her, but even with her powers augmented by the supermoon, she could accomplish no more than making the spilled water around her slosh harmlessly. Katara ran across the courtyard towards where Zuko lay motionless on the ice. She felt his wrist, pressed her ear to his chest, praying to Agni - but there was only the faintest trace of a pulse. His sister had used her bloodbending to stop his heart, and it was struggling to start again.

It was her fault, Katara berated herself. If Zuko hadn't been distracted by Azula trying to bloodbend _her_ , he could have broken his sister's hold on him. She knew his uncle had taught him the trick, based on firebending breathing techniques, even though Zuko had never mastered bloodbending itself. But he had used it to free Katara instead, leaving himself open to his sister's manipulation.

She looked around in desperation for anyone who might be a waterbending healer, but aside from Azula, they were quite alone in the courtyard. She needed to do something to get his heart beating steadily again, and soon.

The lightning sparked to life at her fingertips faster than she had ever summoned it - but at the same time, she knew she needed to maintain precise control. Too much, and she would only kill him faster. Instead of letting the blue energy discharge into the air, she finished the bending form by pressing her hand to Zuko's chest. His body jolted, back arcing, and she felt his heartbeat begin to race wildly, then gradually stabilize.

He gasped for breath, and his blue eyes fluttered open. "Thank you, Katara," he whispered.

Tears of relief spilled from her own eyes of gold. "I think I'm the one who should be thanking you."


End file.
